


The Allure of the Angel

by MrsMoosie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has a Beard, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Mead, Mentions of violence (none depicted), Rutting, Temptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMoosie/pseuds/MrsMoosie
Summary: Aziraphale’s first temptation was said to be during a Viking invasion. Crowley decides that’s a bit too harsh, and offers to find an easier target.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	The Allure of the Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy_Marharet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_Marharet/gifts).



> Hello!
> 
> This is the first of my Request-A-Thon fics! This is of course for my amazing beta partner in crime, who makes everything I write 1000% better. @gotham_girl_88 you rock star. Thank you for this amazing request!! 😍

An agreement had been made between an Angel and a Demon. To lend a hand when needed, to stay out of one another’s way. It began as a small idea Crowley had after meeting Aziraphale in Wessex, and bloomed into so much more. They would have an Arrangement, a mutual understanding of one another’s jobs on Earth. Crowley would bestow blessings as well, and Aziraphale would take on temptations.

Crowley has no problem. Blessings were old hat, even if he was a bit out of practice. They would make his skin prickle and itch, his stomach would drop with nausea. It was unpleasant, and sunk down deep into his core. He was curious if he’d break out in hives or accidentally start a plague. He was worried about Aziraphale though. Sin and depravity were completely foreign to him, and completing some little temptation could easily turn into a larger problem. This wasn’t hedonism, where an extra slice of bread or glass of wine were involved. This wasn’t laughing at Crowley’s racy stories about ancient Grecian times. This needed well thought after practice and attention. So when their first opportunity arose… They went on their mission together.

Since this would be Aziraphale’s first temptation, Crowley felt that a little guidance and hand holding would be necessary. He had been ordered to go to the North to Lindisfarne, a holy island off the coast of England to boost the pillaging that was to be done by the Vikings. This average invasion would turn into a completely barbaric slaughter. He was told to push them to their limits, make this into an event that would be talked about and handed down through generations of humans. It needed to be nearly as bad as Armageddon would be in 1200 years, if not worse. Crowley wasn’t too fond of going big- even he had limitations. There was a village nearby, and that meant more than likely there would be kids. He needed to steer this the right way if he could, keeping them away. Crowley was very uncertain that this was going to be an appropriate first temptation for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was also directed to Lindisfarne, to counteract the Viking attack on the holy island. There were many monks there, innocent in their work of the Lord, that were going to be killed. He was nervous about this as well, and Crowley was to be there with him. 

The monks of Lindisfarne would die as martyrs, clinging to their crosses and praying to God as they perished. Aziraphale was ordered to offer divine comfort to the dying, and blessings to any survivors. He really hoped he’d be seeing them safely off. Crowley was sent to tempt the vikings, who really needed no temptation at all, to steal the holy treasures kept in the church. He’d prefer that over killing the innocent any day, even if they were monks. He wouldn’t be able to set foot in the church, so it would really be up to Aziraphale to make sure they left the men alone and only the relics and valuables were taken in lieu of lives.

The entire affair was completely chaotic, and not going to end well. 

“What if we stop on our way?” Aziraphale suggested, adjusting his tunic as they walked. It was long sleeved, white and trimmed in gold. It stopped right above his knees. There it met white trousers, and then brown leather boots that came up to his knees. He wore a blue cape around his shoulders, which he decided to pull the hood over his head, and wrap tightly around his body. He gave a shiver. If it was cold for him, Crowley must be truly suffering.

“What do you mean stop?” Crowley grumbled, “Not damp enough for you? Fog not good enough for you? Cold not…  _ Cold _ enough?”

Crowley, who would normally have switched into the women’s garbs of the day. He had been quite comfortable in the feminine appearance in this time period, but opted for the male look. Vikings… Well, Vikings were savages, and their treatment of women was abhorrent. He had heard stories of exactly what they would do women from towns they’d pillaged. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the Vikings. Crowley had to show his true self to men here on more than one occasion. A snake head with curls and a petticoat could make a man scream and faint. This made Crowley pleased to know he would most likely behave going forward. He’d never tell Aziraphale that, though.

He matched Aziraphale’s looks, but of his own color. Black, head to toe. The underside of his cape, however, was red. His hair was a ragged mess, hidden under his hood, and he had quite a beard on him which seemed to be the style. He was getting used to it, but it was itchy. Currently, he thought the cold was going to discorporate him at any moment.

“Well…” Aziraphale pondered, “If I’m going to be doing this…”

“Temptation?”

“Don’t… say it.” Aziraphale shot him a look, not wanting to be heard, “Then I think I should have some practice first. I don’t think it’s wise to run head first into such an enormous task, don’t you think?”

Crowley absorbed this information for a moment and pulled his cloak around him, “It’s too cold. C’mon… Supposed to be some village up ahead.”

They arrived in York before night fell and found rooms above the pub for the evening. They still had time before their missions in Lindisfarne, but still a ways to go. A roaring fire had wood added to it in the pub, and Crowley took the table in front of it instantly.

“I wish they’d send me south.” He sighed, “Egypt was so  _ warm _ , none of this fog and rain…”

“Mm indeed it was.” Aziraphale set down two pints of mead, “But it was also very... You know… With all the whipping.”

“Yeah well…” Crowley took his tankard and sipped, humming, “Can’t win them all, Angel.”

The barman brought over a plate of bread, with two bowls of stew. Aziraphale leaned over and inhaled the aroma, taking in the different herbs and spices that the pub used, the potatoes and meats that floated around.

“What. Is this.” Crowley raised a delicate eyebrow, looking at the bowl before him.

“It’s stew!” Aziraphale beamed, “You’ve never had stew? It’s not the best, mind you, but it warms you right up.”

“What’s a stew?”

“It’s um… This. Food, but with broth.”

Crowley looked suspiciously at the bowl and pushed it away, “All set.”

“What!? Crowley I insist, you’ll feel so much warmer… Don’t you eat? I’ve  _ seen  _ you eat.”

“It’s been a while.” Crowley crossed his arms and looked into the fire. It’d actually been almost 750 years since he’d eaten those oysters with Aziraphale. Not that he was counting. He glanced back and noticed the large, round eyes that were looking at him, concern and sadness emanating from their stare. 

“Crowley…”

“Alright, fine. Just… Stop that.” Crowley leaned forward and picked up the bowl.

“Ah! Thank you!” Aziraphale gave a wiggle and picked up his own bowl, holding it out, “To your good health.”

Crowley looked at the bowl and shrugged, “Sure thing, Angel.” 

They clunked together and Crowley took his first sip of stew. He dreaded admitting it, but he really did feel so much warmer after eating the bowl. It reminded him of Egypt again, that warm glowing sun beating against his scales and seeping into his little snake body…

“So. Work… What would you have me do? What kind of um… thing?” Aziraphale looked around nervously, “Don’t make it terribly difficult.”

Crowley began to give this thought. Temptations in theory were not  _ hard _ , but for an actual Angel that collected bibles and prayed nightly? It had to be something easy. Hedonism? Egoism? Materialism? Crowley glanced around the pub and held his mead close, eyes scanning the area behind small black lenses. He took a sip of mead, and that’s when he saw him. The barman that Aziraphale had received the mead from. He seemed about right- younger and therefore foolish, still unmarried, but  _ why _ ? Crowley casually observed him working, and glancing constantly at Aziraphale as he did. 

How easy could this be, honestly. Aziraphale couldn’t mess it up, the man was already doing half the work  _ for _ him. Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, and put his mead down, watching him eating the bread. Aziraphale wouldn’t possibly go through with it though, he was well… an Angel! He was prim and proper, perfect in every way. He couldn’t possibly be able to complete this level of temptation… right?

“The barman.” Crowley picked up his mead again. His mind had been made up.

“Ah- Sorry?”

“The barman keeps looking at you. Your temptation, your first.” Crowley leaned forward, nodding his head to the side, “Seduce him.”

Aziraphale choked on his bread, but a quick snap saved his life, “Crowley?! I- I can’t believe you… You would insinuate that I would…” His cheeks turned bright red and he glanced over to the barman, quickly looking away and back down at his bread.

“Insinuate what, Angel? That you would find him attractive? That you could seduce someone? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“Y- Yes but no…” Aziraphale grabbed his tunic and fussed, “It’s… It’s inappropriate of me to do such a thing.”

Crowley’s face deadpanned.

“That’s why I’m telling you to do it! That’s why we’re even in this damp cold hell going North to an even damper, and even  _ colder _ hell!”

“Crowley! Keep your voice down...”

“If you don’t want to, fine. Your first job will have to be in Lindisfarne.”

“No!” Aziraphale yelped, “I’ll… I’ll do it.” He swallowed hard and grabbed his mead, finishing it quickly. Then, in a move of desperation, he grabbed Crowley’s and finished his too.

“Get me another while you’re up there.” Crowley grinned, “I’ll be right here when you-” 

Aziraphale was up and gone before he could finish his thought. 

“When you get back.” He finished, unceremoniously.

Crowley leaned back and watched, intrigued. He couldn’t hear what was happening over the rowdy other patrons, but knew something was wrong.

Aziraphale was laughing. Aziraphale was  _ flirting _ . Aziraphale  _ touched his hand _ .

Crowley felt his eye twitch.

They were talking, whispering to one another. The barman’s cheeks turned red at one point and Aziraphale leaned in closer, saying something. He nodded toward the door that led upstairs. To Aziraphale’s room. To Aziraphale’s bed.

Crowley was immediately regretting this decision. His Angel… His perfect Angel was flirting with some human that was eyeing him because Crowley told him to. His Aziraphale was inviting him upstairs, into his bed, to… to…

Crowley felt scales growing on his hands and up his neck, a fire growing within his chest. Fangs grew in his mouth and he felt a growl deep within his chest. He hated it, this feeling that was overcoming him. What could it mean, what could it be…

Rage? No... This was jealousy. Furious, fiery jealousy that was causing his eyes to yellow, his scales to show… That barman needed to go.

Aziraphale walked back to the table with two pints of mead and set them down, glancing back to the barman.

“Well?” Crowley snapped.

“It would seem he’s getting married tomorrow. I did the best I could but it just didn’t work out, I’m afraid. I thought he was interested, really but… Not in the cards? Maybe-”

“You did fine, Angel. Brilliant. Just… Drink your mead.”

“Really?! Oh, thank you!” Aziraphale was positively glowing. Crowley’s eye twitched.

Aziraphale sat down and wiggled into his chair, taking his drink. Crowley snarled, “So what were you two talking about?”

“Well. It turns out that um… Due to some circumstances we…  _ possibly _ … I mean he said he could fix it if you aren't alright but-”

“ _ What?” _

“We… Have to share a room. Tonight. Together. Single bed...”

Crowley spat his mead out onto the floor, the scales retreating from his hands and neck instantly, and a flush coming over his cheeks.

“What?”

“He said the rooms we rented out for tonight… One was actually taken already. He asked if we would mind sharing a room…? I um… I didn’t think it was a problem? I don’t really sleep, so you can have the bed, and-”

“It’s  _ fine _ , Angel.” Crowley recovered, sipping his mead again. 

It wasn’t. He had very specific plans for his room that evening, alone. It involved a great deal of thoughts about a certain angel moaning on top of him, and his hand. Crowley growled and finished his mead quickly, slamming down the tankard and standing. Aziraphale watched him, blue eyes wide and confused. Crowley pushed his glasses up his nose, hand trembling.

“I’ll meet you up there.” He said, and quickly got away. He  _ had  _ to get away, he was still furious that Aziraphale nearly  _ succeeded  _ in his temptation of some barman. A human! Crowley was insulted, and dangerously jealous to boot. He made it to their room and slammed the door shut behind him. He threw himself onto the bed like a damsel in distress, and he sighed.

It wasn’t fair.  _ He _ wanted to be on the receiving end of that conversation. He’d been aching for Aziraphale for centuries now, longing for him at least since… Since the oysters. The way he’d slurped them down, the delicious sounds he made, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed… Crowley felt his cock twitch at the thought. It was one of his favorite fantasies.

He tensed as he heard the door shut behind him and he stayed perfectly still. He should have slept as a snake. He’d be able to hide out in the corner of the bed at least, and he wouldn’t have an erection.

Measured footsteps padded into the room slowly. Crowley clenched his eyes shut. There was soft breathing behind him, Aziraphale’s scent overtook his senses. Then he heard a rustle of clothing.

The bed dipped behind him.

A warm body spooned up against him.

Aziraphale’s bare cock, hard as Crowley’s, pressed up against his backside. Golden eyes flew open in shock.

“Angel…?”

“Shh…” Aziraphale whispered. He slipped a hand up his tunic slowly. Thick fingers grazed over his stomach, up over his chest in a delicate dance. Crowley swallowed and closed his eyes. He relished in the feeling of them brushing over his chest, through the soft dusting of hair and pinching at a nipple. Crowley pushed back against Aziraphale needily, his breath hitching at the touch.

Fingers brushed again, squeezing and pulling before giving the same attention to the other. Rubbing, squeezing and pulling gently. Crowley groaned and his head dipped forward, feeling warm, wet lips over the back of his neck. Aziraphale began to thrust against him gently, a soft moan leaving his lips.

“Please…” Crowley whined.

“Mm…” Aziraphale’s nose nuzzled into his neck and he moaned softly. Crowley knew that sound, he’d made it just earlier when he was enjoying his meal. He’d always included those moans in his fantasies, and here he was. Aziraphale was savoring him like a rich wine, like a sweet, rich mead. 

That hand slipped down from Crowley’s chest, slipping over his stomach. Crowley quivered at the touch and a whimper left his throat. Centuries of waiting, of wanting, of lusting… Aziraphale brushed over the waist of his trousers, down and over the bulge at the front.

“Tell me you want me…” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s ear, his hips rocking against him faster, “Tell me you need me, Crowley…”

“Yes…” Crowley tipped his head back into Aziraphale’s shoulder and he groaned, grasping at the mattress below, “I want you… Aziraphale, I need your touch so  _ badly _ …”

Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s trousers down under his ass, allowing his aching cock to spring free into the cool night air. His warm hand grasped at Crowley, drawing a beautiful cry from his throat. Crowley’s hips thrust forward, tears filling his eyes in pleasure and joy. 

“Aziraphale…!”

“Shh…” Aziraphale hushed him, nipping at his ear. His breath was ragged and hot as he quickly pumped Crowley’s leaking cock. His own hips thrust quickly, rutting against him desperately. Aziraphale whimpered and threw a leg over Crowley’s, moaning into the back of his neck. There was no way this could last longer, Crowley’s fantasies were coming true, and that grip Aziraphale had on him was perfectly tight… Crowley moaned loudly, eyes clenched shut.

“Angel… I’m… I’m gonna finish…”

“Do it… I want to hear you.”

Crowley’s breath was fast and only got faster as he peaked. He choked out a sob and arched back into Aziraphale, coming hot and heavy into his hand. He heard Aziraphale do the same, his hips staggering in their thrusts, pushing against Crowley hard. Aziraphale cried out softly, just like Crowley imagined he would, coming hot over his backside.

They lay for several moments, catching their breaths. Aziraphale’s hands slid over Crowley, touching and assuring, miracling their messes away. Crowley was lost in the aftermath of his orgasm, the hardest one he’d had in his existence. It was Aziraphale, touching and pulling it out of him… He dreaded moving.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale’s deep voice came finally. He moved back, allowing Crowley to flip over. Two golden eyes glanced up into blue, confused, pupils blown wide with passion.

“Why…?”

“I um… See I asked the barman to combine our rooms, Crowley. I never actually… It wasn't really  _ him _ I was tempting… It’s always been you.”

Crowley paused and digested this information. His lip twitched, his eyes glinted in the light and he barked out a laugh. 

“Well, Angel… Temptation accomplished…” Crowley finally managed out. He touched Aziraphale’s face and felt something new within his chest. It was so different than the jealousy he’d felt before. It was warm and comforting, like a beautiful fire through his body. It had been there all these years, but finally Crowley decided he should put a name to it.

Love.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on IG @mrsmoosie35
> 
> I am now accepting 1-shot GO fic requests through 10/14! 😘


End file.
